


The Waiting Place

by Ending_Daley



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, I don't know what I'm doing with my life, slightly obscure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4948801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ending_Daley/pseuds/Ending_Daley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Effie fades in and out of consciousness whilst under Capitol 'care'. In the Waiting Place she meets Aubrey, a 'what if' little girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Waiting Place

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic I found mostly complete on my computer.  
> I don't remember what I was thinking when I came up with this concept, but it happened, and I think, at the time, I enjoyed it?? idk.

She howled in pain as another blow was thrown towards her, another shock, another refusal to answer their questions. Curled on her side in the foetal position Effie cried silently. She did not want to give them her tears, it wasn’t worth it, but she had lost count of the days and nights she held it all in.

She squeezed her eyes shut, holding her breath the best she could as repeated blows were thrown at her. They beat her, lashed at her with whips and knives, cutting her skin to small slivers before they beat her with whatever they could reach. They tried to drown her once. They drugged her on the days when she was at her most lucid. She would wane in and out of consciousness propped up in a chair, needle in her arm. It was on those days that she woke up, a low animalistic moan on her lips as her neck ached, cramped from being bent forward for far too long.

She never gave up, she grit her teeth and rolled her fists. She held on in the darkness with the slightest hope that help would come. On her weaker days, she gave up hope.

In the early days Effie could hear Peeta’s cries, his hoarse voice calling out for Katniss in his sleep. He stopped calling her name too many nights ago. It worried her that she could hear his screams and no longer the names of the people he loved. He was angry now, the sadness chased away with a technique she did not wish to experience.  
Effie didn’t understand the questions they were asking her; rebellion, District 13, the plans that proceeded those things. She could not answer their rough inquires. She was starting to think that even if she did know the answers, she still would not tell them. If Haymitch was involved, like they said, Katniss too, she would protect them at all costs; preserve their integrity.

There was no routine to the Peacekeepers punishment. Not one that she could ascertain. She did not know what was day and what was night. The hours ticked by, feeling like years. They would collect her; sometimes it felt like they came quicker than other days. She almost looked forward to the times where they beat her; at least she had the opportunity to speak, even if it was only, _‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’_.

They came while she was sleeping, propped up in the corner of her shabby cell, body exhausted. They hadn’t touched her in what felt like days, her bruises had turned brown, some from the beginning had faded almost completely. She suspected she had a broken rib, it ached, throbbed to the point where she tried not to move.

They grabbed her roughly by the arms, ripping her from her place in the corner. Her ribs screamed, the pain flashing through her body in long languid waves. She stumbled as they dragged her, feet barely touching the ground enough for her to worry about the fact that she was too dizzy to stand on her own.

She never payed attention to the room they took her too. It looked a lot like her cell, larger, littered with items she did not want to acknowledge. Peeta had been in there once or twice with her. She caught sight of his yellow hair. She could not focus on him, could not bring herself to accept the fact that they both held the same fate. That she was powerless to help him.

The Peacekeepers didn’t ask her questions on that day.

Her knees cracked against the concrete, they pushed her, unceremoniously to the ground, laughing as she cried out, her arms holding her ribs instead of buffering her fall. Her cheek slapped against the cool flooring. She forced her eyes closed, pinching them tight as the world around her became blurry, almost black. The pain was too much, too soon; unhealed wound on unhealed wound. The world sizzled, crackled in her ears like an unconnected radio, before it clicked and died out leaving her trapped in nothingness.

  
***

Effie felt like she was waking up from a bad dream. She could feel a cool breeze on her face, gentle and soft, almost caressing her aching cheek. She felt lighter because of it. The air was fresh, sweet not stale. It did not smell like burning wires or sweaty skin. Her spine didn’t tingle at the electricity of fear in the air. She felt clean, the fabric on her arms and back was light, soft, comfortable. It was not dirty and itchy like her prison clothes, ruined and torn at the seams.

Her eyes fluttered open, slowly, like a butterfly testing its wings. She was blinded momentarily by stark whiteness. She blinked, once, twice, three times before Effie managed to collect her bearings.

She was not where she had fallen.

Effie was compelled as to whether or not she could call it a room. Wherever it was, it was white walls, white air, white floor. Effie pushed herself up into a sitting position, her head turning slowly to watch the white expanse around her. The white stopped in one corner, fanning out into cool green, waving grass in the gentle breeze.

There was a little girl, dressed in District clothes, dirty blonde hair braided down her back, standing by a willow tree. She was crouched at the knees, bent to pick the wildflowers beside her bare, dirty feet.

Effie watched her, compelled, intrigued, somewhat confused. The girl plucked flowers, unawares to the woman behind her. She picked a whole bouquet by the time Effie spoke up, voice stuttering, hands fidgeting. ‘Ex-excuse me?’ Effie’s hands jutted out from in front of her, in an attempt to reach out to the girl who was too far to touch. ‘Excuse me, little girl?’ The Capitol had not been chased from her voice, it remained in tatters, a little rough, sand paper grating over a rough table top.

She took hesitant, even steps, leaving the whiteness and entering the meadow, the girl getting closer. Effie’s arm was extended in front of her, almost guiding the way, as she reached for the girl’s shoulder. She touched her, briefly, just before the child turned to face her.

There was a bright grin on the small girl’s face, pulling her mouth up to bare shiny teeth, and spread the freckles across her nose. The girl’s striking blue eyes were aglow as she took in the woman before her.

‘Mama!’ The girl cried, her arms wrapping around Effie’s waist as she smothered her face into the woman’s hip. Effie hugged the girl back, small smile tugging at her lips as she stood awkwardly, unsure of her place.

The girl pulled her head away from Effie’s hip, only to beam up at her. Joy, relief, hope and contentment was etched across her face as she squeezed Effie with her little arms. ‘What have you been doing, child?’ Effie asked, staring back into blue eyes that seemed so familiar. She picked at the girl’s hair, flecks of dirt, leaves and shrubbery had twined their way through her sweet braid.

She stepped away from Effie, her little arms holding out a bouquet of wildflowers. ‘Picking flowers for you,’ the girl shrugged, her face growing serious. ‘Papa’s worried. He didn’t think I would see you at all, he thought you would pass right by me.’

Effie cocked her head, puzzled by the little girl’s words in such an odd place. She had no idea where they could be and yet she could hear the wind in the leaves, far off chatter. If she focused hard enough Effie could swear she heard running water in the distance, and birds in the trees.

‘Papa?’

‘Papa Haymitch,’ the girl was ecstatic at the mention of his name. Effie on the other hand felt the sudden urge to sit down. ‘He comes here a lot. He likes to sit with me instead of his withdrawals. He feels sick here anyway. He yells sometimes, but it’s okay because I know he doesn’t mean it.’ She was quick to save the man, his memory, and explain away his behaviour. Effie, without a doubt believed her. If Haymitch choose time with this girl, instead of wherever he was hiding, then there must be admiration, or a very strong tolerance. ‘He loves me,’ the girl responded as though she knew Effie’s thoughts. She was, however, a little girl whose flights of fancy remained in love and romanticism. ‘That’s why he comes all the time; says I look just like you. He calls me Princess and plays with my hair. He’s the best papa, ever!’

‘Your papa is Haymitch Abernathy?’ was all Effie managed to stammer out, the sheer possibility of it all somewhat compelling for her.

‘He doesn’t know where you are.’ The girl frowned, corners of her mouth falling as her brows kitted together. ‘He’s sorry. He’s so very sorry, Mama. He said they were supposed to get you, but someone else got you first.’

‘Am I dead?’ She wondered aloud, eyes searching the foliage around them, avoiding the whiteness, the absurdity of it.

The girl shook her head with a small giggle. ‘Papa calls it hell,’ she laughed, ‘it’s not. It’s just a waiting place. Sometimes people let go of their lives, but you’re not dead. I’m here to help you make a decision.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You can go back to your life, where you were before this. Or you can stay here with me. Papa doesn’t want that. He wants to find you, he told me to make sure you don’t stay. He really wants to find you, Mama. Where are you?’ She digressed, frown returning yet again. There was too much trouble, too much worrying on her little girl face. ‘I can tell him next time he comes. I can tell him where you are! Where are you?’

‘I, I don’t know. I don’t know where I am.’ The girl kept a hold of her frown. Effie’s bottom lip quivered, frightened. The possibility of not knowing her place baffled her. Never had she not known where she was or why she was there. She knew why. They wanted information. She did not know where. The Capitol someplace? The city was vast, she could be anywhere. ‘I really would like if he would come find me.’ Effie choked, tears burning at her eyes. She wanted Haymitch to find her, to find Peeta and Johanna. She wanted him to take them away, get them out of their very real hell.

The girl shifted awkwardly, not accustomed to the emotion displayed on Effie’s face; the desperation. She continued to frown, the look almost permanent for the girl, her eyes were big and blue, filled with untouched worry. ‘That’s okay,’ she whispered, ‘he’ll find you. I know he will.’ She reached for her mother’s hand, wrapping little fingers around her palm.

Effie gave the girl a wobbly smile as she squeezed her hand in return. ‘Might I ask, who you are?’ The child called her Mama, but this was no place of reality. She was in a cell, in a big dark room that smelt of electricity and blood. A room that smelt of her torture, of her fear, of her long lost freedom. All of it inflicted upon her by her own, once loved, city. She had not lost her mind, though, she knew without a doubt that she did not have a small child of about seven years.

‘Aubrey,’ the girl offered shyly, ‘I’m your little girl.’

‘I don’t have a little girl.’

‘I’m a ‘ _what if_ ’ little girl. Both of you had to think about the prospect of me, of a child, a bond, a connection for me to exist. I would not be here if you had not.’ Aubrey shrugged, happy smile on her face again. She was cheerful and bright, something Effie couldn’t help but love already. ‘That’s how the waiting place works. You wouldn’t come here if you didn’t have something to fight for, and someone to fight with.’

Effie stared at the girl, rude, distasteful stating. Her mouth was open like a blubbering fish and even though she tried she could not pick her jaw back up again. Haymitch had dreamt up the thought of having children with her, a little girl none the less. Effie wasn’t going to deny that she had the same thought, that it kept her warm on dark nights; just the image of the two of them, curled up with a small bundle or watching a little girl play in the yard.

‘Why are you here? Can you leave?’ Aubrey looked confused, if not a little irritated. She had told her mother why she was there, that should have been explanation enough as to if she could leave or not. She was the gatekeeper to the waiting room, the beginning of the doorway to realms unknown even to her celestial self. The realm belonged to those who had once existed but were no longer. She was there to help them decide to leave their great pain or continue with it, carrying it on their shoulders until another time came. Aubrey, herself, did not exist.

She shook her head, ‘I’m not real. I am hope personified. I’m imagination, strength of will, persistence, possibility of the future. But, I’m not real.’ She suddenly aged before Effie’s eyes, no longer seven-years-old but eighteen, strong, intelligent, well spoken. She was tall and beautiful, she was rag-tag and rough, she was regal, a spitting image of Effie herself with a few hints of her father.

‘Maybe one day, I could be real. One day.’ She smiled with grace, all knowing and somewhat secretive. Effie couldn’t help but fall into the hope the girl was supplying. She wanted children, one day, when the world wasn’t such a mess. She was running out of time.

‘He has to find me first,’ Effie sighed, not entirely hopeful on that one. She could be anywhere, his chances of pinpointing her weren’t high. At the same time, she was with Peeta. All attention would be on the boy if Haymitch had Katniss. If they located Peeta, they could find her too.

‘I have no doubt that he won’t find you. Papa spends a lot of time here, he likes it, but he won’t give in until he knows where you are, until he has you in his arms. He refuses rest, he only sees me when he’s too sick to fight it. He will find you. He will. I just know it,’ she whispered, hope drifting past her lips, landing in the world with a little less faith and a lot more urgency. ‘He’s not allowed to drink anymore,’ she added almost cheerily knowing that Effie would be intrigued. ‘His head is all cleared out, he says that he thinks better on liquor, but I can see he’s more controlled off of it. He started bossing the big lady about, the one that’s in charge. She took his crutch away, his alcohol, made him sober and he’s very, very, determined to find you.’ Aubrey’s blue eyes shone, twinkling with excitement. It was a love story to up stand all other love stories. ‘He does what he’s asked, mostly. But, he asks back just as much. _Effie, Effie, Effie. Where. Is. My. Effie._ ’ The girl chanted, almost turning childlike again in her sheer excitement, as she mocked her father’s demeanour, repeated his love. She giggled when she was done, her laugher so light she was seven again, bringing a smile to Effie’s face.

‘He told you that?’ she crouched down to the girl’s height, the white dress she was wearing, not her prison garb, billowed around her. Aubrey nodded ecstatically.

‘He loves you. Love, love, _loves_ you!’ The girl giggled, her little hands reaching out for her mother’s face. Pressing her cheeks together Aubrey giggled louder as she leaned into her mother. Effie’s heart ached, she wanted this. The little girl. The love. The happy little giggles.

It was disappearing before she was ready to let go.

The meadow shook, tremors shaking the trees. Birds took flight in fear. Aubrey didn’t flinch, unaware to the changing world, to the fearsome rumble, and suddenly gunfire. Effie jumped, tripping over her crouched ankles she fell hard on her hip. ‘Aubrey, what’s happening?’ The girl raised a little eyebrow in confusion, asking her mother a simple; _what do you mean?_

Effie heard shouting, loud angry voices as gunfire went of sporadically, the ground still shaking like the rumble of thunder. She could feel the electricity, a coming storm, danger. ‘Nothing’s happening, Mama, what are you talking about?’ the girl was gripping Effie’s arms, trying to help her sit up, Effie couldn’t move. She was paralysed, her broken rib started to throb again, her cheek joining in, the aching in her knees reminded her that she had fallen.

This place was not real, reality was coming back.

She didn’t know she was crying until Aubrey had aged in front of her again, eighteen-years-old, wiping away the tears on Effie’s cheeks. ‘This isn’t how it happens, something must be wrong. Go.’ The girl urged her to let go. ‘He could be there, you need to wake up! Call out!’ Aubrey urged, shaking Effie’s shoulders, begging her to leave the waiting place, to go find Haymitch.

‘Aubrey!’ she cried, voice croaking as her vision blurred again. The girl in front of her with her dirty blonde hair and messy face, her District attitude and clothes, her bare feet and wildflowers; started to fade. ‘Aubrey!’ Effie cried further still as the meadow and the whiteness around her faded out to black. She was lost for a second in her subconscious crying for her daughter that didn’t exist, begging for the connection to Haymitch to come back.

She was lying on the floor again, the concrete cold under her torn clothes. Her eyes were pinched shut, her broken rip threatening to pierce her lung, and her kneecap ached like she had shattered it. When she opened her eyes she was not alone with the Peacekeepers, there was someone else, leaning over her, shouting, his hand shaking her shoulders lightly.

She stared up at blue eyes and a gruff face. It took her a second, but she knew who he was. It wasn’t a Peacekeeper. It was Gale Hawthorne. Effie gasped at the sight of him, her hands flew out to grasp onto his arms. Never had she thought she would be thankful to see a face as stern as his, but it was familiar, comforting. ‘Haymitch?’ she rasped out, trying to pull her body into a sit as Gale kept her down, his mouth moved but she could not hear the words. His hands were strong on her shoulders, holding her still.

Effie wanted to fight him, to sit up and demand to know Haymitch’s whereabouts. That was, if Gale even knew where he was. She had a good feeling, seeing the District boy in military garb only meant that he had joined on with the rebellion. The room was shaking around her, her vision sparse as she fought to keep her eyes open. She did not succeed for very long, when he eyes rolled into the back of her head as Gale finally started to move her. The room turned to black, everything faded.

  
***

The sound of beeping infiltrated her hearing somewhere in the middle of an empty dream. Effie struggled to collect herself, feeling no pain only a groggy fog wrapping around her limbs and head.

She was more aware of her left hand, than the right, it felt warmer, heavier almost. She twitched a finger. Something in the room moved, fabric rustled, a chair’s legs screeched across the floor. A voice called out to her, a soft, relieved rendition of her name. Haymitch.

Her eyes opened, slower than expected, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. His face was hovering above her when her vision finally settled, wide grey eyes flying across her face. He pressed a long kiss to her forehead, his hands cupped her cheeks, as he donned her face with light kisses. ‘I’m _so_ sorry.’ He whispered emotion high rung in his voice. Effie was quiet, shocked at the emotion he readily supplied her with. When she thought of finding Haymitch in one piece, she did not think he would be the emotional one.

Effie wanted to whisper back ‘ _it’s all right_ ’ but she did not trust the words. In the pit of her stomach she was angry. He left her behind. He left her and in turn she was taken, abused. The weight that lifted from her chest at the sight of him, that was something else. ‘I’m so very mad with you, Haymitch.’ She whispered slowly, her throat dry and sore. She locked her fingers around two of his, holding on for dear life. ‘But, I am so, so happy you’re here.’ He chuckled softly, catching her lips with his own. He kissed her for a moment, two, until he felt it absolutely necessary to stop. It was never going to be a good time to stop kissing her, but their lungs needed air.

‘You can be mad at me later, I promise, sweetheart.’ He peppered her cheeks. Haymitch could not get enough of her. He had been so worried that she was dead, that he would never get her back. Now that he had her in front of him, injured and in pain, but all right, he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.

‘It’ll be fun,’ she smiled slowly, ‘you’re sober, no drinking away my voice.’

Haymitch pulled away from her. ’How - how did you know that?’

‘Aubrey.’

‘You, you know about Aubrey?’ His brow crinkled, embarrassment coloured his cheeks. Haymitch thought he was alone in that girl’s mind. She was his and his alone, a secret he didn’t have to share, something to keep him sane even though it was a little insane to think of her in the first place. How had Effie seen her? They had spoken about Effie, and the girl said she had not come through the waiting place, not yet, not at all. He didn’t really believe that she would know, that she would link herself to Effie. That was insane.

‘She’s our ‘ _what if_ ’ little girl.’ Effie whispered, blue eyes sparkling.


End file.
